


just for today

by fluffysfics



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Agent O - Freeform, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Touch Aversion, but in a sad way, dubcon but just because of the identity thing, inadvisable kissing, pre-spyfall, the master is SOFT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27439147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Agent O hasn’t seen the Doctor in a while, when she asks if she can come over ‘for a chat’. The Master knows it’s going to hurt. But he agrees anyway.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	just for today

Agent O’s dingy London flat has never looked so spotlessly tidy. 

  


The Master tells himself that this is because it’s in-character for O to clean up for the Doctor, because he’s got a silly human crush on her. He is well aware that the Doctor hardly cares about messiness, and he knows it’s ridiculous, and yet he’s been fussing about this for _days_ , making sure every detail is perfect. 

His TARDIS is disguised as a standing lamp in his bedroom, well out of the way. His fridge is stocked with plenty of human food, because he’s decided that O likes to cook, a decision that is in no way related to his current regeneration’s cooking skills that he wants to show off to her. There are cushions on the sofa, and no papers on the floor for once, and everything that could possibly hint at his real identity has been stowed away inside his ship. 

Everything is exact. The trap is laid beautifully. The Doctor wants to come over _for a chat_ , he’ll play the part of the eager little human friend perfectly. Make her comfortable, make her like him, set everything up so that it’ll all come crashing down in flames around her ears when he reveals who he is. 

He’s as nervous as he was when he was planning their first date back at the Academy. 

The Master is still straightening cushions when the telltale scraping, groaning sound of the TARDIS engine drifts to his ears. He jumps, smoothing down the soft purple t-shirt he’s wearing especially for the occasion. It’s subtly him; he likes the colour purple this time, and he wants the Doctor to _hurt_ when she sees him wearing it later. He’s planned everything. 

Also, purple brings out his eyes. 

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the front door of his flat. He ducks to look through the peephole, and it’s...somewhat of a relief, to see that she looks oddly nervous as well. The Master carefully affixes a wide, innocent look in his eyes, and smiles, and opens the door. 

“Doctor! Hello. Um- you look nice.” She’s dressed exactly as she always is in the photos she sends him. That doesn’t make his statement any less true. 

“Hi,” she says back, shuffling on the spot and clasping her hands behind her back. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Sorry ‘bout that, by the way. Busy life, you know me. Better than anyone, actually. Don’t tell the fam.” 

The Master just about avoids scowling at the word _fam_ , and nods, spending a few more seconds staring at her. Then, in a move that is embarrassingly in character for O without being remotely intentional, he realises that he hasn’t actually invited her in yet. 

“Oh! Come in. Come in. Can I take your coat?” He steps out of the way, and holds out a hand, and the Doctor eyes it for a moment before cautiously shrugging off her coat and handing it over. The Master wonders what secrets it contains in its pockets, but he remains outwardly incurious, hanging it up on a coat rack next to him. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” the Doctor says, sauntering into the living room without being invited. “Cosy. Neat. Really neat. Swear there’s always paper everywhere when you text me pictures.” 

“Yeah,” the Master says, following her. “I cleaned up.”

“Why?” She frowns. 

“Um. For you.” 

“Why...?”

The Master stares at her, internally wondering just what state this regeneration is in. There have been some naïve ones, but this Doctor isn’t that. Instead, it’s more like...like she can hardly fathom the idea of someone caring for her enough to clean up before she comes over. 

He shakes his head, quietly sitting down on the sofa and folding his hands in his lap. The Doctor sits down next to him, and then he immediately springs up again, blushing, in a move he’s practised a hundred times. “Can I, um- get you a drink? Snack? There’s water. Orange juice. And apple, I think. Snacks, well- I can make something, I could do—“

“You got any custard creams?”

The Master blinks, genuinely taken a bit off guard by that. “I don’t think so.” 

“Oh.” The Doctor scrunches up her face, and then digs in her trouser pocket and pulls out a family pack of custard creams. They should not have fit in there. Of _course_ she has dimensionally transcendental pockets. Of course. “Problem solved! C’mon, O, sit back down.” 

He does so. The Doctor opens up her biscuits, jamming two into her mouth at once before offering him the packet. She has the manners of a toddler, and he spent all day cleaning up for her. Sometimes, the Master wonders why he loves her so much. Then he remembers how deeply he hates her, too, and it all makes a little bit more sense. 

He takes a custard cream. It doesn’t taste quite as bad as he’d feared it might. 

“So,” he says once he’s finished the biscuit. “You asked to come over? Didn’t think you made house calls to strangers.” 

“Making house calls on strangers is most of my life,” the Doctor says, grinning. The smile fades after a moment, though, and she settles against the comfortable back of the sofa and wraps her arms around herself. “And you’re no stranger, O. Really. I think you might be the person who knows me better than anyone.” 

The smug, volatile glee that rises up in his chest is utterly unseemly. The Master tells himself that it’s because he’s fooled her, and not at all because he hasn’t heard her say that to him since they were young, and he’s _missed_ it. 

“Oh,” he murmurs, reaching out a gentle hand to touch the Doctor’s arm. She flinches, and then freezes mid-flinch, and quietly presses into his touch instead. 

“You feel warm,” she starts, and then shakes her head. “I don’t- O, I don’t like being touched.” 

“Oh,” he says again, and withdraws his hand, stammering out more flustered apologies. 

“No! No.” The Doctor grabs his hand, puts it back. “I don’t like being touched. But it... I like when you touch me.” 

_Oh_. They’ve spoken before, over text, of how much the Doctor hates that people feel entitled to her current body. They’ll grab her arm, move her aside, hold and touch and brush and squeeze without any permission whatsoever. 

But he’s an exception. He, the Master, is _special_. He has to fight to keep from grinning like a maniac and purring with delight, and instead he settles for a small, sweet smile. Politely flattered. 

“In that case, Doctor- d’you want a hug?” 

She looks at him like she might be about to cry, and then nods wordlessly before turning over and pressing herself against him as tightly as she can. 

The Master holds her close, buries his face in her shoulder and breathes in the most familiar smell in the universe. It’s been millennia, and the Doctor still feels like home to him. 

Unbeknownst to her, their real home is in flaming ruins, every building reduced to ash and rubble. But if he closes his eyes, nestles far enough into her shoulder, he can pretend like they’re eighty again, curled together in bed after a long day of classes. 

“Thank you, O,” she mumbles, and the illusion is broken. They’re so far from Gallifrey now, so far from their innocent childhoods. He’s playing the cruelest trick on her that he has in centuries, and for a moment, his resolve wavers. If he told her who he is, comes clean now, maybe she won’t hate him forever. 

Oh, who is he kidding? She knows she’s better than him and she always has done, even if she doesn’t quite know why yet. 

He tightens his grip on her, and the Doctor lets out a noise something like a sob. The Master steels himself; lifts his head. Right now, he needs to be O. He needs to be soft, and gentle. And he needs to stop his hearts pounding like they’re about to beat out of his chest. 

“You okay there, Doctor?” He moves one hand to stroke her hair, and feels her let out a shaky exhale against the side of his neck. 

“Haven’t hugged anyone for a long time,” she mumbles. “Last person might’ve been Yaz’s mum, and that went terrible. Felt all weird. Always does, this go. Just can’t get my body in the right place. Can’t make myself enjoy it. Even if I really, really want to.” 

The Master gently rests his chin on top of her head. “But you’re enjoying this?” 

She nods, and sniffles softly, holding him closer. It’s a good thing he thought to disguise his twin heartbeat. Although she might still be able to hear his left heart hammering away like they’re kids who’ve just clumsily confessed their feelings for each other. 

He resists the urge to squeeze her tighter. He resists the urge to call her _my Theta_ and to never let her leave his side again. He resists every possessive swell that rises up in him, and he slowly moves his hand to cup the side of her cheek. 

“Doctor,” he says softly. “Any time you need a hug, I’m right here. It’s the least I can do. My life’s so much better for having you in it. I want to help you any way that I can.” 

She gazes up at him, and she looks her age. Those hazel eyes are endless, endless pools full of so many years of pain. The soft creases at the corners of her lips, the edges of her eyes, betray a million smiles but also so many frowns. 

She is the most gorgeous thing ever to grace this universe. He hates, he _hates_ that he is so much less than her. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, O.”

The Master isn’t entirely sure how he manages to keep it together after hearing that, but he manages a small nod, a soft smile. “You don’t ever have to do without me. I’m not going anywhere, Doctor.” 

It’s such a human promise to make, full of the naïveté of hardly realising that a Time Lord lifespan is a million times longer than their own. But it’s also true, in its own way. He will never let one of his schemes to kill the Doctor succeed. He knows she will never kill him, either. They will circle each other endlessly, and he will love her, and she will—

Soft lips press gently against his own, just for a second, before the Doctor pulls away, looking stricken. 

“I’m sorry- I wasn’t thinking, O, I- I haven’t done that before this body, and you- you’re-“ She looks on the verge of panic. 

The Master pushes down a yawning mass of feelings too dizzying and painful to comprehend, and he gives in to his basest instinct and kisses her back. 

She sighs, relaxing against him, and she kisses him like she’s never craved anything more in all her lives. It’s intense. It’s everything that the Master has been wanting for years. He can feel guilt driving its way between his hearts like a wedge, splitting him in two. 

He wants this. He wants the Doctor to fall in love with him, wants to wrench her to pieces when he reveals who he is. Part of him is equally tempted to run to his TARDIS when she leaves, and strap himself into the Chameleon Arch, just so that he can have this for real. The Doctor’s adoration, her attention, her love- he’d have it so easily if he were human. He has it now, and it’s going to hurt him so badly to let it go. 

It’s close to half an hour before they break apart for more than a few seconds. The Master hasn’t felt his hearts pound like this in years, hasn’t felt so much warmth this entire regeneration. The Doctor’s face is flushed, her hair tousled. He’s going to treasure that image. 

“Thank you, O,” she says softly. “I think- that was good. I don’t want...anything more, not now, I just- d’you mind if I stay here a bit longer?” 

“Not at all,” the Master says, his voice coming out a bit rough. He coughs to compensate, and smiles, and lets the Doctor cuddle up against his side. 

She snakes her arms around him in return, sighs, and falls into a peaceful silence. She looks so much happier than she did when she arrived, even if they never really did get around to having that chat she’d asked for. Maybe that had just been a pretence. It’s a much sweeter lie than the one he’s currently feeding her. 

The Master rests his cheek against the top of her head, and gazes vaguely off into the middle distance. He aches for a time when this sort of affection was really, properly genuine. He misses believing that they could truly be together forever. 

Maybe it’s not so bad to push his plans to the side, just for today. He’ll never have eternity with the Doctor the way he wants it. Especially not when she finds out who she really is. But right now, they’re not immortal enemies fighting across the stars. He may as well be human, and she looks more vulnerable than he’s seen her for centuries. 

Agent O presses a gentle kiss to the forehead of the wondrous alien he’s slowly falling in love with, and he smiles to himself, and he closes his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes I just get Feelings about these two and then fics like this happen and I’m very sorry,,
> 
> hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos are very very much appreciated <3


End file.
